A history of Goderich: From the early 1900s through the 1910s

By: Kate Smith

The late 1890s and through the early 1900s were transformative years, characterised by industrial growth, urbanisation and evolving domestic and social changes.

Soon, the Great Storm, the Great War, the Spanish Influenza and the Temperance movement would impact those right here in Goderich.

Before major events that brought tragedy and mourning to Goderich, there was a steady growth in innovation and social changes in the early 1900s.

The first successful moving picture show was screened at the Opera House on April 15, 1901, and featured the solemn funeral procession of Queen Victoria.

The popularity of the event led to a moving picture exhibition on the 1901 Dominion Day weekend in the Dunlop Block on West Street across from the post office.

It was not until ‘Prof. Green’s Moving Pictures’ of comedies and dramatic photo plays were shown at the Opera House in April 1907 that Goderich audiences responded with any enthusiasm to moving pictures.

According to local historian and author David Yates, in September 1907, the ‘Wonderland’ movie theatre opened on Kingston Street. It was advertised as the finest moving-picture machine in Western Ontario. The theatre was small, cramped and stuffy.

A second movie theatre, the Star, opened nearby to a crowded house in September 1913, offering a fine selection of films.

Yates says competition between the theatres was intense, while the art of entertainment was quickly changing.

Innovation didn’t stop there.

One of the town’s first major employers for women was the Goderich Knitting Company.

At the peak of its production, the company was one of the most substantial industries in Goderich, and although unusual for that age, the work force was made up almost exclusively of women and girls who operated machinery that knitted yarn into stockings, hosiery, socks, baby bonnets, mittens and other textile products.

The overwhelmingly female nature of the company’s workforce made it a unique enterprise in Goderich.

Before the Great War, women in the labour force were expected to leave when they married.

Circumstances might have forced women to work in factories.

By 1908, the Goderich Knitting Company exported its Maple Leaf line of mittens and hosiery throughout the Dominion and was reported as one of the leading industries in Goderich.

Unfortunately, in June 1914 the company was closed indefinitely due to a lack of orders, but the outbreak of war in August 1914 briefly revived the factory, but by 1918, labour shortages plagued the factory.

The Goderich Knitting Company holds a legacy of the town’s first major employer of women.

The Great Storm of 1913 brought tragedy to the shores of Lake Huron.

The steamer Wexford was one of 12 ships lost with all hands during the Great Storm of November 1913.

Frank Bruce Cameron, aged 24, became the Wexford’s new captain in October 1913. He had sailed on the lakes since he was 14 and was the son of Captain Alexander Campbell Cameron.

On the night of November 8/9, 1913, Cameron decided to set sail during a lull in the violent storm that swept across Lake Superior.

Despite the warnings, the Wexford and several other vessels entered Lake Huron bound for Goderich.

The Wexford was last seen 15 miles off Point Clark in calm waters, but the storm struck Lake Huron with a fury.

As wind gusts of up to 90 miles per hour, 30-foot waves and blizzard conditions swept in, the Wexford was overtaken by the white hurricane.

Although the Wexford was maddeningly close to finding refuge in the Goderich harbour, the high winds and blinding snow and heavy seas pulled the steamer away from safety.

Some residents in Goderich testified they heard the shriek of her whistle over the sound of the hurricane in a vain attempt to get help.

The Wexford wasn’t seen again until 87 years later when she was sound off St. Joseph in 75-feet of water on August 25, 2000.

She was found sitting upright on the lake floor, and 23 names were confirmed as crew of the Wexford.

Within the same year, a movement soon swept through Goderich.

According to Yates, drunkenness was a serious problem in early 20th century Canada. As heavy machinery and mobiles replaced horse drawn wagons, intoxicated drivers and labourers presented a serious hazard.

Although they could not vote yet, women wanted sober husbands who brought home their pay, rather than spend it at the tavern.

Many women became militant crusaders in the temperance fight to outlaw the sales of alcoholic beverages.

Between the Great Storm and the Great war, there was a battle between the ‘wets’ and the ‘drys’.

In November 1913, the federal government announced there would be a referendum in Huron County on the Scott Act of 1878, also known as the Canada Temperance Act. This act allowed municipalities to vote on whether to prohibit liquor sales in bars, taverns and hotels.

The Ontario Branch of the Dominion Alliance, which supported prohibition, mobilised its forces for the battle in Goderich.

Many contended that the Scott Act would not stop people from drinking but would only drive drinking into the home.

After holding several public rallies, the town held an election on January 29, and there was a heavy voter turn out. Denied the vote, women held an all-day prayer vigil in the Temperance Hall.

The results in Huron County, and Goderich in particular, were a resounding victory for the ‘dry’ side (612 for the Scott Act, and 474 against).

The bars in Huron were set to close by May 1, 1914, just 90 days away.

The license commissioners granted a one-year liquor license to six hotels and one liquor shop in Goderich. All Goderich ‘wet’ bars would close on August 1, 1914.

At 11 p.m. on Friday, July 31, 1914, about 400 people gathered on the Square to mourn the ‘passing of the barroom’ in Goderich, with one last drink.

It was a quiet celebration, according to Yates. Perhaps the crowd was made more sober by the knowledge that their country was on the brink of war.

Although drug stores were allowed to sell alcohol for ‘medicinal purposes’, it would not be until 1959 that it was legal to buy a drink in Goderich again.

Then came the Great War.

At the outbreak of the Great War in 1914, the outpouring of patriotic enthusiasm was not just confined to young men enlisting in the army.

According to Yates, there was a spontaneous explosion of female volunteerism that played a vital role in sustaining Canada’s war effort.

The local IODE chapters and Women’s Institutes unanimously pledged support.

In September 1914, Goderich formed the first county Red Cross chapter. Within one month, the Goderich Red Cross had 83 members (70 women and 13 men).

Typical meetings were devoted to wrapping bandages, knitting socks and pneumonia vests.

A Mrs. Reynolds who knitted over 520 pairs of socks between February 1, 1915, and August 1, 1917, was recognised in the local papers by the national Red Cross. Her achievement was more amazing, because she was blind.

With the number of women’s patriotic organisations growing during this time, they needed somebody to coordinate them for them to be effective.

In November 1916, Mrs. Isabelle Hamilton, who has often been regarded as one of the unheralded heroines of the Great War effort in Huron County, was elected President of the Women’s War Auxiliary.

When the war was over, everyone had hoped life would return to ‘normal’, but it was never going back. Women had gained experience as effective organisers of voluntary and charitable organisations.

Soon, some of the men serving during the Great War, would have one final night at home.

On Thursday, October 5, 1916, the 161st Huron battalion returned home for one final five-day home leave before embarking for the Great War in Europe.

It was Thanksgiving weekend and for most, and for many, that Thanksgiving would be the last memory families had of them.

By October 1916, the Great War was over two years old. Initial enthusiasm for the war had been replaced with a grim determination.

Every hour spent with family and friends before heading to a bloody war and an uncertain future would be precious for these men, according to Yates.

On the Sunday afternoon, members of the battalion formed up in Victoria Park and paraded to the Courthouse Square, where 3,000 people came to watch.

After supper at the Bedford Hotel, there was one last dance with wives and sweethearts at what is now the Goderich Legion.

The ‘Goderich Boys’ who gave Private McCluskey’s the wristwatch the previous day must have been in the crowd trying to get a look at their esteemed friend, and it was the last time they would see him, as he was killed in October 1917 at the Battle of Passchendaele.

McCluskey’s 17-year-old nephew, Harvey, was also marching into the Huron battalion that day. He was killed in August 1918.

Nineteen-year-old Private Joseph Glazier marched by his own East Street home. It was the last time he saw his family and home, as he too, died the next year at Passchendaele.

According to the ‘Signal’, nearly everyone in town and surrounding areas were at the station to bid farewell, and it was a scene never repeated in our history as the train pulled away.

In memory of that October day, when the Goderich cenotaph was unveiled on Dominion Day 1924, the bronze soldier was positioned to face the Grand Trunk Railway (GTR) station.

He is seen lifting his helmet in farewell to those who did not make the return journey home.

During a trying decade, filled with uncertainty and mourning, along came the Spanish Influenza epidemic.

Within a few weeks in September 1918, the deadly Spanish flu epidemic was peaking and Goderich was not immune to its devastation.

The influenza outbreak in the autumn of 1918 was second and most lethal wave, as it killed more young, otherwise healthy adults, whose numbers were already depleted by the Great War.

The first reported Goderich fatalities were sisters Hazel Wilson (19) and her sister, Reta (18).

Despite a cold, Hazel worked as a bookkeeper at the Knitting Company, until she took a turn for the worse and died on October 7. Her younger sister died two days later.

Two other women – Barbara Austin (27) and Elizabeth Donaldson (20) succumbed to the flu on October 11 and October 14, respectively.

On that same day – October 14 – three-year-old Margaret Bedford, the daughter of the Bedford Hotel’s owners, also died.

Without a federal health agency to coordinate a response, local councils coped with the crisis as best as they could.

After an emergency meeting of the council and local board of health on October 14, it was decided there would be an immediate ban on all public gatherings. All churches, schools, theatres, picture shows, poolrooms and other social spaces were closed until October 25.

Since the public closures didn’t include railways, automobiles and shipping traffic, the disease continued to spread.

The following week brought more fatalities including George Thompson (25), who was one of the first Goderich men to enlist in August 1914. He was gassed and wounded at the Battle of the 2nd Ypres and discharged from service. Thompson survived bullets and poison gas but died at home of influenza.

Tragically, the youngest Goderich epidemic victim was Thelma Armstrong, who died on October 25, the day she was born.

Finally, the area was recovering from the epidemic when news of the Armistice on November 11 reached Goderich and caused a spontaneous eruption of jubilation.

With thousands gathering and celebrating the end of history’s deadliest war, the spread flared up again in November.

At 50,000 lives, the 1918 Spanish Influenza epidemic killed almost as many Canadians as the Great War.

It wasn’t until November 1918 when some peace arrived, but with it, a heavy shroud of mourning.

Just before 6 a.m. on November 11, 1918, the long-awaited telegraph arrived at the Grand Trunk Railway (GTR) station announcing that an armistice, or ceasefire, existed between Germany and the allied powers.

This news ignited an outburst of celebrations.

Within minutes, the town was roused by the Goderich Organ Company’s whistle, soon followed by bells of the town hall, churches, courthouse and other factory whistles.

Flags sprouted on porches, verandas and shop windows. Automobile horns were heard from every corner of the town.

Over 3,000 people gathered at the Square, and Mayor Edward Wigle proclaimed a town holiday. All shops, factories and schools closed to celebrate.

Ironically, Goderich schools had already been closed due to a deadly outbreak of the Spanish Influenza in October.

While the celebrations were going on, a group of women used the opportunity to circulate through the crowds to solicit funds to buy a Victory bond for the Alexandra and Marine Hospital. The impressive total of $150 was collected for the hospital.

According to Yates, the armistice did not bring an end to the dying as the papers carried the news of the dead and wounded long after.

The fall of 1918 was particularly hard on Canada. One in five Canadian Great War casualties (approx. 47,000 killed and wounded) were suffered in the war’s last 100 days.

The ‘Signal’ brought the news of the armistice and of the death of former GDCI student Private Lawrence Wark (20). The paper also announced the death of Corporal Wilfrid Hicks (24), who was one of the first Goderich men to enlist in 1915 and was wounded twice.

As celebrations continued in Goderich on November 11, few could know that the world they fought for and died to defend was forever altered.

According to Yates, Canada’s – and Goderich’s - age of innocence had ended but soon the Roaring Twenties were around the corner.

This was a decade known for economic recovery following the Great War, of cultural transformation, and social change, marked by technological innovation, growing independence and evolving gender roles.

This is an ongoing series of historical features to tell the story of Goderich, in each issue of the Goderich Sun, from June 2026 until June 2027, in anticipation of its bicentennial.